The Spirit of the Season
by hautecontre
Summary: The best presents aren't necessarily found in the shopping mall, and family can be what you make of it.


The members of New Directions were sitting around the choir room, enjoying their victory in the tree decorating competition, and chatting about their plans for Christmas.

"My mom and I are going to hang out with my brother and his mom," said Jake.

Ryder jumped in next. "My dad makes our family spend the day observing Christmas as people in another country do. This year it's Sweden. I just hope we don't have to eat lutefisk," he said, grimacing. "What about you, Blaine? What's up at casa Anderson?"

Blaine started a little bit, somewhat surprised by the question. He recovered quickly enough, he thought. "Oh, just the usual. Caroling, opening presents, drinking egg nog. Nothing special. What'll it be like in Kentucky, Sam? Do they even get snow?"

"Sometimes, I guess," answered Sam. "But even without snow, it'll be fun to see Stacey and Stevie running around, trying to get the rest of us up at the crack of dawn so that they can start opening presents. And then we'll have a nice brunch, and spend the rest of the afternoon helping out at the local shelter."

"That sounds really cool, Sam," said Blaine with what Sam noticed was a somewhat wistful look. And something didn't sit quite right with him about Blaine's Christmas plans, either. He couldn't quite put his finger on it yet, but he figured that if his "Blaine-dar" started pinging, it was worth paying attention to. He knew his parents wouldn't be thrilled with the change in plans, but Sam was beginning to think that there was somewhere else he needed to be on Christmas Day instead.

While Blaine loved modern culture, he also had an appreciation for the old classics as well as traditions handed down from one generation to the next. So, having made his way to the den, he was ready to follow the house rules of opening one present before breakfast. He tried to look through the presents to find something innocuous: clothing, perhaps, or maybe a CD. He definitely did not want a repeat of last year, where he found a subscription to _Penthouse_ in his haul. (Although, he supposed, this year he could just regift something like that to Sam.)

Before he could unwrap the present, the doorbell rang, disrupting the quiet of the morning. Not expecting anyone at such an early hour, or any hour today, really, Blaine put down the present where it lay, and headed to the front door. He opened it just far enough so that his head and not much else was visible, and greeted his visitor.

"Hi, Sam. What are you doing here so early?"

"I'm here to spread some Christmas cheer!"

"And why do you have your guitar with you?"

"It's not Christmas without singing, right? You said so yourself. So I brought my guitar. I thought we could sing some songs for your family. Maybe Cooper wants to join in?"

"This isn't a very good time, Sam. We were just about to sit down for breakfast."

"That's okay, then. Let me just give everybody my greetings and I'll be on my way."

"You don't have to do that. I can tell everybody you said hi."

"Well, sure, we could do that. But do you think you could let me in for a moment while we figure this out? It's awfully cold to be standing outside—and you're not exactly dressed for this weather, either."

Blaine sighed and allowed his shoulders to slump, seemingly in defeat. He knew Sam was persistent, if nothing else, and he'd figure it out soon enough. Better to rip the bandage off all at once. "Sorry. It was rude of me to let you stand out there."

"Darn right it was! Now where is everybody?" Sam asked eagerly as he moved past Blaine into the foyer, placing his coat and hat on the rack near the entrance. A few steps later, he stopped in his tracks. The house was quiet. Much too quiet. "Blaine, what's going on? _Where is everybody_?"

"They're all upstairs sleeping," Blaine responded, a bit too quickly. "But the real question is what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in Kentucky with your family? I'm sure they're missing you terribly right now. You could head down and be there by mid-afternoon if you went now. Do you want to call them and let them know you're on your way? Or do you need to stop by the Hudson-Hummels to pack? I . . ."

"Blaine, stop. Why are you so eager to get rid of me? Did I do something wrong?"

"No, Sam, you're fine. I just don't want to talk about it. Can we do this some other time?"

"Nope," Sam shook his head. "Now I know something's bugging you, and the last time we let this go on for so long, you almost transferred back to Dalton. So let's talk about it now before it gets any worse."

"Okay, Sam. If you want to know what's the big deal, I'll show you," Blaine said enigmatically, making his way toward the den. Sam followed, not sure what Blaine had in mind, until he entered the den, and found it exactly like every other time he'd visited the Andersons' home in the last few months.

Well, that wasn't entirely true, Sam saw, having another look through the room. In one corner stood a miserable excuse for a Christmas tree, decked with just a few shreds of tinsel and a tiny plastic star. Maybe you could call it a Christmas sapling, if you were being generous. Beside it sat a few wrapped presents. Sam would have thought they were plenty for his own family, but for a family as well off as the Andersons, it didn't seem like there was enough for one person, let alone four. Bells were starting to sound in his head, but they were warning bells, not Christmas bells.

"Blaine, what's going on here? Where are all the decorations?"

"That's all I felt like putting up this year."

"You? Didn't the rest of your family help you?"  
Blaine snorted derisively. "They'd have to be here to help."

Sam really didn't like where he thought this was headed. "What do you mean? Where is Cooper?"

"He's off in California shooting more commercials, or maybe just chasing a new girl. He sent me a postcard two weeks ago wishing me a happy holidays and said he'd try to be here next year."

"What about your parents? Where the heck are they right now?"

"I don't know—Milan or Manila? Or maybe Milwaukee? The email said where they were, but I didn't spend too much time reading it. It doesn't matter much, anyway. They're not going to be here."

"But that's awful, Blaine. You might be eighteen now, but that doesn't give your parents the right to abandon you for Christmas. What were they thinking?"

"Well, I'd love to ask them," Blaine answered bitterly, "but considering they haven't answered any of my phone calls or emails for at least, oh, the last six months or so, I won't hold my breath waiting for a reply."

And there it was, what Sam hoped wasn't really going on, but knew deep down was the only possible explanation. Something Blaine once told him popped randomly into his head.

"'I feel really, really alone.'"

"What?"

"That's what you told to me at our victory party after the election. 'Really, really alone,' you said. I just figured you missed Kurt. But you meant that literally, didn't you? When Kurt left, you didn't have anyone around at all, did you?"  
"That was my fault, I guess. I should have spent more time making friends other than Kurt. If I had done more clubs last year, instead, or hung out with the rest of you more."

"Stop it, Blaine!" Sam exploded, but quickly calmed down; anger wouldn't help either of them at this particular moment. "You really need to quit blaming yourself for things that aren't your fault."

"Oh, but it is. Isn't it funny how, just a few weeks after I got out of the hospital after the Sadie Hawkins dance, my dad takes a job that requires him to spend ninety-five percent of his time on the road? He couldn't accept me for who I am, so he took off and left me at Dalton. He didn't really even care when I transferred to McKinley. Just sent the signed paperwork and didn't even bother to leave a note."

"This isn't your fault, Blaine. This is your father being a damn coward!"

"Kurt, Cooper, my parents. Everybody I love seems to think I'm not good enough to be around," Blaine spat out as he slid down the wall he had been standing by. He looked up at Sam, eyes filled with resignation. "So how is this not my fault? I must be doing something wrong, Sam. What is it? What do I need to do? If somebody would just tell me, I'd fix it in a heartbeat."

As Blaine began falling apart with those last questions, Sam felt his own heart shattering into a million pieces for his best friend. Stripped of the dapper and energetic mask he wore all the time was the real Blaine, a person he didn't want anyone to see: a sad and lonely young man wanting nothing more than acceptance. How could someone who tried so hard to be there for everyone else in his life get so little back from the people who loved him most? Sam himself had certainly had a rough go of it the last few years—"teenage stripper" and "happy childhood" did not exactly go hand in hand—but at least Sam knew for sure that his family loved and cared for him. Right now, though, he had to make sure that Blaine got the same message. Sam would do everything humanly possible so that his best friend would never be alone again.

He sat down in front of Blaine, putting his hands on Blaine's shoulders, hoping the physical contact would start to get through to his friend. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with you, dude. You don't have to change anything about yourself to deserve your family's love and acceptance. If they can't see you for the good guy you are, that's their fault, not yours."

"But . . ."

"But nothing, dude. You go out of your way to help anyone who needs it, and you accept everybody for who they are, not who you want them to be. Everybody else at McKinley wanted something from me when they became my friend."

"But I wanted to win class president."

"You didn't need to become friends with me to do that, but you did anyway. And you've never asked for anything other than my friendship. How can I not love a guy like that, dude?"

"Thank you, Sam," whispered Blaine as he dried away the last of his tears. "You've been a really good friend, too. You're just about the only person who's been in my corner with the whole breakup and everything else."

"And that's the way it's going to stay, bro. I'm not going anywhere."

"Thanks. For everything. But shouldn't you be hitting the road soon? Otherwise you won't get to be with your family. You should be spending the day with them, not cheering me up."

"Dude," Sam said exasperated, with a giant roll of the eyes. "Were you not listening? I'm not going anywhere. And I meant that. My folks know I'm here, and they're cool with it."

"Oh."

"Now that that's settled, let's get to Christmas. I think it's time we start some new traditions. What do you say to some video games now, brunch, and a movie marathon? I'll even let you pick the movies, so long as Captain America makes an appearance."

"Well, actually, . . ." Blaine hesitated.

"What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing. But do you think we could go over to the shelter after brunch instead? We could do the marathon later."

"Sure man, that sounds awesome. But first, it's time for me to kick your butt in _Super Mario Kart._ "

"You're on."

Much later that evening, as the final credits of _The Avengers_ rolled on the television set, Blaine and Sam lay huddled under the covers in Blaine's bedroom. Blaine glanced at the clock next to him, and gasped in shock. "Sam! It's two a.m.! Don't you have to get back to the Hudson-Hummels?"

"Nah, it's okay. I texted them I was staying over while you were absorbed with _Moulin Rouge_."

"And they're okay with it?"

"Yep. The bigger question, though, is are you okay with it?"

"Why wouldn't I be? I always like having you around, Sam."

"Well, that's good, bro, because there isn't anywhere else I'd rather be right now."

After climbing back into the bed after changing, Sam turned to face Blaine. "Don't turn off the lights just yet."

"Huh?"

"Well, I've been thinking about some stuff, and I wanted to know what you thought about it."

"Like what?"

"Something my parents once said. They said you have two families in life: the family you're born into, and the family you make for yourself."

"That sounds really lovely, Sam, but what does that have to do with us?"

"Hear me out. Neither of us have our families with us, right?"

"True."

"And I'm going to be eighteen in a few weeks, so I wouldn't have to live with the Hudson-Hummels anymore."

"So where would you go, then?"

"Well, I know this really awesome dude who's been alone for way too long, and ought to have a family, too."

"Sam, are you asking? . . ."

"Why not be roommates?"

"You'd do that for me?"

"If the tables were turned, would you do the same for me?"

"Sure. But aren't you worried about what people will say?"

"No. Why should I not be there for my best friend just because of someone else's reaction?"

"You're amazing, Sam. Let's do it. But there's so much more we'll need to figure out. Like . . ."

"Dude, slow down. You can make your lists in the morning. For now, let's just get some sleep, okay?"

"Okay, Sam. And thanks. Good night."

"Good night, B. Sweet dreams."

For the first time in as long as Blaine could remember, he went to sleep a happy man. And in the years to come, whenever Blaine was asked how his relationship with Sam started, he'd always point back to Christmas of his senior year, when he got the best Christmas present anyone could ever ask for.


End file.
